


Unfortunate Timing

by HareBrained



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Office, Derek has the worst timing, Derek is a secret nerd, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Stiles loves Game of Thrones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-15
Updated: 2013-11-15
Packaged: 2018-01-01 14:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1045232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HareBrained/pseuds/HareBrained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek reminds Stiles of the office dress-code a week before the Head of Department's visit, he was sure he couldn't have predicted this.</p>
<p>Stiles is unexpectedly hot. Derek is gob-smacked. Chaos ensues.</p>
<p>A Fem!Stiles fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfortunate Timing

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so I hope you enjoy!

Derek left the elevator and entered the familiar scene, coffee cup in hand. He looked around the office, pleased to find Danny already there, filling out a report from their latest sale. It was a tricky one, and there had been many short tempers across the team.

“Danny” he nodded, watching as his back jolted slightly, unaware of Derek’s presence.

“Oh, hey Boss. Need anything?” Danny smiled.

“Do you know if Stiles has installed those new systems yet, like I asked?”

“See for yourself, she’s in The Cave.” Danny chuckled.

Grumbling, Derek wandered towards the opposite end of the office, knocking on the door marked ‘IT.’

“Yello!” Was the enthusiastic reply. Derek walked into the dimly lit room; in its centre was a broad desk, upon it several monitors and –unsurprisingly- Batman bobble-heads. He put his mug of coffee down. Sat behind the desk Stiles blinked back at Derek, a smug grin spread across her illuminated face. She was wearing a dark grey, baggy t-shirt with some sort of slogan he couldn’t quite see beneath a haphazardly shrugged-on red hoodie. Her ratty Converse were on the desk, tapping out some fast, energetic rhythm. Derek was not impressed.

“What can I do for you, Broodster McGee?” she taunted, grin broadening.

“You can get your feet off the desk for starters” Derek countered, shoving her shoes off the table. Stiles pouted, her bite-swollen bottom lip jutting out. Derek stared for a few seconds before shaking himself, regaining composure. _What the fuck?_

“Did you install those systems like I asked you?” he asked, glaring at the girl before him.

“Geez, Derek. I emailed you the details last night. I told you I’d get it done, and guess what? I have! Oh, don’t look at me like that, Sourwolf. Ha, wolf. Like Game of Thrones. You know, the saying on my shirt? House Stark? Winter is Coming?” she babbled.

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Derek huffed. It was far too early to translate Stilesian, and he needed to finish his coffee. Speaking of which…

When Derek went to pick up the mug, he found it lighter than anticipated, and then he looked down. Empty. Where had..? _Stiles._ Who knew she was sneaky when she wanted to be?

“SCOTT!” Stiles bellowed, breaking Derek out of his contemplation. Without another word, he left the room, returning to the central hub, passing Scott on his way. He muttered a “Morning,” leaving Stiles’ puppy-eyed behind him.

Derek returned to his desk to find his seat occupied by one Lydia Martin. Apparently since his chat with Stiles, everyone had arrived.

“Up” he barked, broad shoulders in a ridged line. With a piercing stare, Lydia flounced out of his chair, flicking her strawberry blonde locks obnoxiously. _Since when did he know so many dramatic people?_

“So, how’s your girlfriend?” she mocked, face twisted into a smirk. _She really was just like Jackson._ Derek mused. Lydia and Jackson were both company lawyers, equally fierce and determined. Once they had a case, their focus was legendary.

“What girlfriend?” Lydia gave him a look. “Stilinski?” Her expression was incredulous.

“I didn’t mention any names, Derek, but it’s interesting you’d jump to that conclusion.”

_Shit._

“Well…I just left The Cave, so I thought you would have seen me. Yeah.”

_Double shit._

With a raised brow, Lydia turned on her heel and headed towards her office. Derek groaned, head slumping on to the desk with a dull thud.

* * *

 

It was a week later when Derek received an email notifying him of the impending visit from his Uncle (and head of department). More sales had been wrapped up, and Derek kept his distance from Stiles, hating the all-knowing looks of his co-workers. He wasn’t that transparent, was he?

Derek was wrestling with the new coffee machine when he heard a cough behind him. “You okay, man?” Stood there was Isaac Lahey, accountant and curly-haired clone of Erica Reyes from marketing.

“Yeah.” Derek confirmed, rolling his eyes. “Just making some coffee.”

“Okay. Stiles wanted to see you, something to do with an email?”

Derek nodded, taking a gulp of the still scolding-hot coffee. _Jesus fuck, that burns._ He looked up from behind his coffee cup to find Isaac’s smug smile. All. Knowing. Looks.

 

* * *

 

When Derek entered The Cave, Stiles was under the desk untangling the many cables hidden there.

“Ahem.”

Squawking, Stiles’ head hit the top of the desk, her slender arms flailing gracelessly.

“Derek! What the hell, dude?” Stiles exclaimed, a thunderous expression on her usually bright face, whiskey eyes darkening in embarrassment. Derek shrugged, his face a picture of indifference.

“You asked to see me.”

“Yeah, not give me a heart attack!” She snarked.

Derek huffed, exasperated. “What do you want, Stiles?”

“I got that email from Peter about the upcoming visit. Are you-“

“Wait, he told you? Why?” Derek asked, confused.

“Hell, if I know, dude. You gonna tell the others?”

Derek nodded, sticking his head out the door to shout: “Boardroom. Meeting. One hour!”

He turned back towards Stiles, taking in her bemused expression. She was still sat under the desk. Her eyes widened as she realised this, scrambling upwards and straightening out her baggy jeans. It bugged Derek how she never seemed to follow the office’s dress code, _always has done, and always will_ , he thinks. Everyone in the office – and he means everyone- wore suits or smart wear. Everyone but Stiles, who claims that as she rarely needs to leave The Cave, it doesn’t matter. Apparently.

* * *

 

An hour later, mostly everyone had gathered in the boardroom, ready for the meeting. Derek was about to begin talking when Stiles and Scott rushed in, resulting in a scuffle for the closest chair. With surprising strength, Stiles shoved Scott to the floor, leaping over him and collapsing into the spinning desk-chair, lifting her arms in a victory cry. Scott grumbled, taking his place next to Allison, who gave him a gentle smile.

“Now that we’re all here…” Derek said, giving Stiles a look. “I want to tell you about the Head of Department’s upcoming visit to our offices.”

“You could just call him your uncle, you know.” Stiles interrupted, shrugging.

“Can it, Stilinski.” Jackson retorted from beside Lydia, sneering. Stiles rolled her eyes, indifferent.

“ _As I was saying_. We need to make a good impression, and that means no messing around, and no avoiding your work.” Derek instructed, his voice ringing with authority. “This also means you need to follow dress code, and I mean _all of you.”_ The last part was directed at Stiles, who had pulled a packet of crisps from somewhere and begun eating.

“Chill, guys. I’m not a barbarian.” She claimed, pouring the last of the packet into her mouth with a satisfied crunch. She looked up to find all eyes on her, brows raised in disbelief.

“I get it, okay? Geez, relax.” No one – especially Derek – was convinced.

Boy, was he wrong.

* * *

 

Derek walked into work next week only to find some mysterious random giving his Uncle Peter the tour of the office. As he did his rounds of the place, he couldn’t find Stiles anywhere, not even The Cave, her notorious hiding place. He grit his teeth and strode over to Scott, demanding answers.

“Stilinski, where is she?” Scott frowned, taking in Derek’s scowl.

“Derek? I’m right here.” Came a familiar voice from behind him. Rolling his eyes, Derek turned, ready to scold her when – whoa.

Stood beside Peter’s smug form was one Stiles Stilinski. And yet, it wasn’t. She wore a knee-length charcoal pencil skirt which caressed the delicate curves of her hips and legs, with a smooth fitted blouse, emphasising the slimness of her waist. Her soft, brown hair was styled, yet tousled, brushing against her sloping shoulders and framing her pale face. Behind her square-framed glasses were bright eyes, lined and mascaraed, giving them a doe-like quality. She was beautiful, and all Derek could do was stare, gaping at her with a slack jaw.

“Nephew!” Peter called, clicking his fingers in front of Derek’s face

“What?”

“Dear Stiles here was giving me a tour of the office. And a lovely job she’s doing, too.” Peter oozed, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder as she smiled sheepishly, blush high on her cheeks. Derek didn’t know what to say, the sight of Stiles was all he could think about.

“I think he’s rebooting.” Stiles joked, taking a step towards him. “Are you okay?” she whispered, oblivious to how she looked, and his attraction to her. Concern was etched on to her face.

“Damn, Stilinski. You look hot!” Erica catcalled across the office, breaking the mounting tension between them. Stiles gave an awkward laugh, pushing the glasses back along her nose.

“I do try, Erica.” She replied, blush still in place.

“Stiles, why don’t you continue the tour with Peter? I’m sure he has questions.” Derek suggested, needing to get away. Fast.

“Aye, aye, Captain!” She saluted, walking away with Peter in tow, shiny, black heels clicking against the floor.

_Jesus Christ._

* * *

 

Derek was sat in his office, trying to work out how his life had come to this. How on God’s green Earth had he become attracted to – of all people – Stiles Stilinski, the gangly techie and renowned office clown. What the fuck was he meant to do? They had an on-going battle of wits ever since she arrived at the company, was that considered flirting? Was she even attracted to him? For the second time in two weeks, Derek slumped forward, head hitting the desk, sloshing coffee out of the unfortunately over-filled coffee cup. Derek groaned, defeated, when there came a knock at the door.

“Enter” He said, words muffled against the hardwood desk. Scott slipped through the door, a sympathetic look on his face. Derek knew that look, it screamed: _pep talk._

“Derek, we all saw what happened out there. You completely froze.” Said Scott, taking the seat opposite him.

“I refuse to talk about this.”

“Just listen, okay? Stiles is my best friend, and everyone – I mean _everyone_ – knows you secretly like her. Well, apart from Stiles, obviously-”

“Are you still talking?” Derek growled, raising his head from the desk. He could hear Stiles outside chattering away to Peter, and his answering laughs. She was doing Derek proud.

“Just ask her out, man. You might be surprised.”

“You done?”

“Yeah.” Scott replied.

“Well, that was mildly horrifying. Thank you, Scott.”

“Anytime, dude.”

* * *

 

Hours after Peter had left, Derek found Stiles stood by the coffee machine humming a tune which sounded remarkably like _Hounds of Love_. She was pouring the third sachet of sugar into her Batman mug when Derek decided _fuck it_ and walked towards her, grabbing a mug for himself.

“I saw you did a good job with Peter earlier.” She jumped, slamming her mug on the counter.

“Jesus, Derek! Another heart attack, really?” She gasped, clutching one hand to her chest, glasses askew. Derek smiled, and Stiles narrowed her eyes.

“What?”

“What?”

“Derek, why are you smiling? You never smile. Oh my God, are you going to kill me? Please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Stiles. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was wondering if you wanted to go for dinner later. Out. With me.” Derek replied, smiling again. As soon as the words had left his lips, Stiles’ eyes widened, before narrowing again. They were no longer warm and inviting, now cold and firm. She was radiating suspicion, and Derek braced himself.

“And why, Derek, have you decided to ask me this now?” She murmured. The office behind them had gone scarily quiet.

“I just…ah…”

“Just what, Derek? Now that I resemble something female, you deem me _worthy_ of your time and presence. Is that it? Huh, Derek? I saw you staring at me, and now I’m not wearing those baggy clothes and dorky t-shirts you rag on about, you think I’m suddenly different? Suddenly worth asking out? Well, _fuck you._ ” She snarled, making her way towards the elevator, mug of coffee left behind.

“Stiles, wait! You know that’s not what I meant.” Derek tried, following her. Everyone in the office was looking at him with grim faces.

“Back off, Derek.” She ordered, her normally sweet personality now harsh and bitter. Walking into the elevator, she punched the button for the ground floor, standing close enough to the doorway so that Derek couldn’t enter.

“Stiles, just listen for a minute.” He said, reaching out for her.

“I said back off! Just…leave me be.” She replied, sombre. The doors closed and Derek huffed, turning back to face the room.

“Shit.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

* * *

 

A week later when Derek arrived in his office, he was met by the faces of three disgruntled women. Erica, Lydia and Allison were glaring at him, and he gulped, fully expecting a lecture on the psyche of the female gender. He made his way towards his desk, slumping in the revolving chair. _Might as well get this over with._

“Look-”

“Derek Hale, _you_ are an idiot.” Lydia cut in, hands on her hips. They meant business, then.

“I know.” He confirmed, looking down as if the carpet was suddenly interesting. Allison took a step forward, clearly the mediator of the situation, and gave him a pitying look.

“We all know you meant well, Derek, but you hadn’t shown any interest before. Considering her lack of self-esteem, it was quite clear that would be her conclusion, don’t you think?” Allison soothed.

“What I want to know,” butted in Erica, “is what the hell possessed you to ask last week, of all weeks. We thought you had more sense than that.”

“Scott. It was Scott, okay?” Derek snapped. All three women face-palmed, shaking their heads.

“You took advice from Scott McCall. The same Scott McCall who tried to reach for candy through the bottom of the vending machine last week. That Scott McCall?” Lydia demanded, radiating disbelief.

“Yes.” He agreed, silently cursing Scott’s existence.

“What you’re going to do, Derek, is go to The Cave, take her some coffee, and explain yourself. We will deal with Scott.” Ordered Allison, a sinister glint in her eyes.

“We will?” Asked Lydia and Erica.

“Yes. We will.”

* * *

 

Derek was on his way to The Cave, heart racing and coffee cup in hand when he met a guilty looking Scott in the hallway, hands behind his back and shuffling awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, dude, but I don’t think she’s gonna want to see you.” He apologised.

“I might as well get this over with, Scott. It can’t get much worse, can it?” Derek sighed, exasperated by how shit his week had been. He couldn’t wait for it to end.

“I’m serious, man. I don’t think-”

“Scott, you realise that not only Erica and Lydia, but also _Allison_ is out for your blood, right? For your poor advice yesterday.”

Scott paled, the growing panic clear on his face.

“What the hell, dude? Why’d you throw me under the bus like that?”

Derek smirked, cherishing the fleeting sweetness of revenge. Maybe his day had taken a turn for the better. Then he remembered where he was heading in the first place, and the brief satisfaction had been quashed into oblivion, foul mood returning with a vengeance. This was it. Showtime.

* * *

 

Hesitantly, Derek knocked on the door. He had no idea how Stiles was going to react, but for some reason he craved her forgiveness. Derek hadn’t meant to appear shallow; he still blamed Scott’s idiocy and the adrenaline of seeing Stiles looking amazing for his spur of the moment decision to ask her out. He didn’t know Stiles would read it like that, but he guessed her sarcasm and jokey nature was just bravado, a defence against her colleagues’ taunts and jests. 

“Come in!” Stiles called. Derek didn’t want to admit it, but he had missed her energetic chatter. He stepped through the threshold, nervous. She hadn’t looked up from her screen yet, too engrossed by whatever she was doing. Playing video games, he guessed. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s done this at work. She glanced up towards him, freezing slightly.

“Oh.” She said, stunned. Before she could say any more, Derek walked towards her, hands held out in surrender.

“Look, just hear me out, okay? I got you coffee.” He placated, holding out the familiar Batman mug towards her. Timidly, she took the mug from him, honey eyes wide and beseeching. She was wearing another skirt and blouse set, different from the one on the day of ‘The Incident.’ If she had all these clothes, why did she avoid the dress-code beforehand?

“Oh, Lydia commandeered my wardrobe. Said I had to dress properly for work now that I’ve done it once. I didn’t want to disagree, she’s scary.” Stiles explained, looking down at herself. Derek’s mouth curled up at the edges, not quite a smile, but enough for Stiles to gently return it. Here was the tricky part: explanation.

“I know how it looked when I asked you out the other week. I looked shallow and superficial, but I’ve been meaning to ask you for a long time, weeks and weeks ago, in fact, but seeing you looking like that, Stiles, I had to ask you to dinner before anyone else did.” Derek forced out. All this ‘emotional talk’ was exhausting, and he will never understand couples like Scott and Allison.

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me.” Stiles replied, voice flat. “And I believe you’ve severely overestimated how I looked.”

“I really, really didn’t.”

Stiles snorted, running a hand through her hair. Derek could tell she didn’t know what to say, she was still doubting him and his intentions. _Jesus_ , he thought to himself, _she must have some serious confidence issues._ So he tried to reassure her.

“Look, I get that the circumstances were wrong, but Stiles, I don’t care if you have a deep-rooted relationship with plaid, or that half your wardrobe is hoodies and shirts with slogans I don’t understand. I like you for you, okay?” Derek pleaded. God, he sounded borderline desperate. Stiles tilted her head to the side, analysing his face, before leaving her desk and sauntering towards him, wrapping a long arm around his waist.

“You _like like_ me?” Stiles teased, mouth set in a sly grin.

“Yes, dumbass. No need to act like a highschooler about it.” He smirked, returning her embrace.

“Does this mean we can get dinner now? I’m starving.” She asked, beaming up at him.

“Sure. A Lannister always pays his debts, remember?”

His joke was met with silence. He looked down to find Stiles staring up at him, eyes shimmering with something like awe. He went to speak, but was met with a smacking kiss, clumsy, but passionate none the less. Stiles pulled back, whispering:

“You know Game of Thrones?”

Derek laughed, and from somewhere deep within the office, there was whooping.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please Kudos and comment. It'll be much appreciated! :)
> 
> Talk to me on [Tumblr](http://ragged-flagons.tumblr.com/)


End file.
